Still Just a Mundane
by RoisinChubs
Summary: ***CoHF SPOILERS*** Simon Lewis is disoriented and confused and so very sure that there is something vital missing from his life. Worse still, his dreams are haunted by vampires and demons and a beautiful dark eyed girl who just seems so real. But she can't be can she?
1. Prologue

**I love writing about Simon. What happened at the end of CoHF killed me, and I had an itching feeling to start a fic about his mental state after the memory loss. I know there are a lot of references to the guys but I just feel like the people he loved that much couldn't have been that easy to wipe away from his memory completely. This will consist of a few chapters, not sure how many yet, and will bring us all the way up to the wedding. **

Simon woke, gasping. He tried desperately to cling to the images that had just been spiraling through his dreams. He caught a flash of flame red hair and blue sparks, the crack of a whip and a pair of devastated black-brown eyes. He remembered a fierce, desperate need to protect the people that had stood beside him, but he simply couldn't remember why they needed saving or even conjure the faces of those he was so prepared to die for.

Groggily, he sat up. His hands were shaking, and he felt nauseous. Just a dream. He told himself. He couldn't fathom why it had him so shaken, all he knew was that he felt ... Wrong. Empty.

_Pull yourself together, Lewis. Don't be such a crybaby._

He hauled himself out of bed and got dressed. His Made In Brooklyn t-shirt was strewn over a chair, looking at it brought back the nausea. He remembered buying it with... again a flash of red curls clouded the memory, green eyes laughing at him as he showed her ... him. Eric. He knew it was Eric because he distinctly remembered going to one of his terrible poetry readings after buying it. He sighed. Weird.

_You're stressed, that's all. School's a drag, and you still haven't found a lead singer for the band.. let alone a half decent name._

For some reason these typical teenage dilemmas weren't really daunting to him at all... to be honest they seemed, well, pretty mundane.

_This'll pass, Simon._

It didn't.

He felt a bit punch drunk for days. Occasionally he would get flashes of something, some murky memory that he passed off as a dream. Once he even demanded from his mother where the painting that used to hang above the fireplace went. He was sure it had been a gift from an old friend ... She had looked at him like he was mad and told him that the huge gilt mirror had always been there.

Every time he managed to get through a day in a normal fashion, he would be side swept by that horrible empty feeling, like something huge was missing from his life. He accidentally ordered two coffees while at another vile poetry reading in Java Jones, and even turned to make a hilarious comment about Eric's use of the word 'loins' _again_, before realising with a jolt that, of course, no one was sat beside him.

Familiar figures still haunted his dreams. A beautiful, fierce girl with a curtain of black hair demanded that he "remember." A golden haired boy sneered at him "come on mundane, she needs you."

For some reason the word mundane grated him. He would wake in a cold sweat, a desperate longing to be somewhere else, but for the life of him, he had no clue where that might be.

He started to wonder if this is what going mad felt like.


	2. Nightmares

**Nightmares - January 2008**

"Dude, what is with you lately?"

"Yeah, you look like hell man."

Ah, the concerned friends inquisition. Simon had been expecting this; He was actually suprised that it had taken them so long. He hadn't been sleeping for over a week. Well, he supposed he had slept, it had just been restless.

Both Eric and Kirk were looking at him with an expression of concern mingled with slight apprehension, taking in his sleep rumpled clothes and circled eyes. He had crashed in his jeans and tatty shirt the night before and had ended up oversleeping. He didn't really have the time or energy to change for school.

It was Wednesday, band practice night, so naturally they were sprawled on the tattered sofa discussing school and girls and other trivial things. No wonder the band sucked.

"Oh nothing, really." Simon replied. "Just school stress I guess, I have piles of homework from Mrs. James." He purposefully mentioned Eric's absolute least favourite teacher in a hope to set him off. He wasn't disappointed as Eric started on a tirade of epic proportions about how much of an "evil hag" she was.

The truth was, Simon was not worried about school at all, but he didn't think his friends would understand that high school just felt pointless to him now, and he knew they would definitely think he had lost it if he told them about the nightmares.

He could deal with the ones about terrifying creatures that lurked in the dark alleys of New York City. They were nothing on the gut wrenching, heart breaking dreams of the beautiful black haired girl begging him to remember her. Those dreams had him jerking awake with tears on his cheeks and a forgotten name stuck in his throat.

After spending the next two hours in a similar state, the boys decided to call it a day and head home. They had been hanging around purposefully longer than usual in the hopes that someone would answer the flyers they had put up about needing a lead singer. Simon didn't know why this made him feel so sad. No one had come, and the others were all pretty dejected about it. Single file, they trudged out the garage door, murmuring forlorn goodbyes as they went.

Simon hung back to help Eric pack up, before heading home himself. He was finding it more and more difficult to be alone. The more often he was on his own, the more time he had to dwell on his current state of feeling lost, and that led to him desperately trying to remember something so beyond his grasp that his head hurt and his eyes swam.

At home was even worse. He fidgeted at his desk, attempting in vain to focus on his math homework. His fingers drummed on the wooden surface, his mind straying to the black haired girl from his dreams. Thinking about her hurt, and shaking his head, he abandoned the sheet of unfinished problems, grabbed his coat from the hallway stand and after shouting to his mother that he was going for a walk around the block, bolted through the front door.

The chill of the January evening helped some. The fog of memories that were choking his brain dissipated a little and he leaned against the cold brick of his house and closed his eyes.

That was no good.

There she was, her beautiful face etched with pain was seared onto the back of his eyelids. Sighing in frustration, he kicked away from the wall and stalked into the night.

Part of him was whispering that he shouldn't be wandering around Brooklyn in the middle of the night, but a more dominant part of him wasn't afraid at all. The darkness was welcoming, comfortable even. He vaguely registered that the feeling of ease that enveloped him as he walked wasn't normal, but he was too worked up to care.

He walked for hours, not particularly knowing or caring about his destination. He passed nightclub after nightclub, bar after bar, ignoring everyone and everything he passed. Finally, jut after midnight something caught his eye and he came to an abrupt halt.

A neon sign hanging directly above him, naming the club directly to his left.

_Pandemonium._

The whole place felt familiar, right down to the bouncer on the door and the strangely dressed people in the queue.

Without really thinking about it, he turned on his heel and joined the end of it, dialing a number into his phone as he went.

**So what do you think? Who is Simon calling? What will he witness in the club? I know this chapter is a bit short, and very late, but they will increase as the story moves on, and I will get better at updating, reviews and the like will help that along. Hope you enjoyed. **

**xoxo **


End file.
